Anthropology
by misslunalovegoodtotherescue
Summary: Society is a fascinating blend of raging politics & cultural traditions. For this Gryffindor the presence of a calculated Slytherin, a conceited prat and whimsical Ravenclaw has the potential to transform an alluring hobby into a extraordinary experience
1. I

Chapter 1

The gothic grandeur of the Great Hall was bathed in a celestial glow of golden sunshine reflected by a collage of intricate stained glass designs. Ginny Weasley smiled as a ray of light illuminated the fiery shade of her luscious red hair.

Suddenly, the warmth upon her shoulders was replaced by a chill; the sun had hidden itself behind a series of stormy clouds. Ginny signed and returned to the unfolding scene before her.

The Slytherins had made their destructive presence known to the early risers milling about the Great Hall. Ginny Weasley observed a pair of miscreants levitate a set of dishes, while pleasantly sipping a cup of pumpkin juice with two pale freckled hands.

She had a wretched copy of the Daily Prophet laid on the deep mahogany counter of her house table and examined it with mock pretense.

It was the regular nonsense the Prophet boiled every morning: wild stories about known Death Eaters and the handful of sporadic jabs concerning The-Boy-Who-Lived. She sniffed indifferently at a moving picture of Harry Potter on the front cover and reflected on her evolving feelings towards the ebony haired boy. She recalled with great embarrassment her infatuation with him as a child and the dire trouble she caused several years before. Ginny buried her head on the pumpkin stained page of the article and successfully wrinkled the Daily Prophet in several places. Oh the horror, the horror!

Her humiliating thoughts were rudely interrupted by the jarring voice of Pansy Parkinson. Ah, 'The Reign of Terror', as Hermione Granger so artfully and accurately dubbed it had begun. Ginny Weasley believed the Muggle title snugly fit their daily theatrics of verbal and non-verbal abuse.

It seemed as though each house member endeavored to reflect a particular inhuman figure which accurately represented the traits of Salazar Slytherin. Most of the younger students aspired to mimic the lead of the ever-sneering Draco Malfoy; though a fair few handfuls looked to the elusive Blaise Zambini. They were both, as Hermione Granger so reasonable described it, "suffering from a delusional sense of reality" though Luna Lovegood was quite convinced that it was not brainwashing they suffered from, but from zumblumes, which were, according to her, rabbit-like creatures which hopped about in camouflage and attacked people with long hair.

This statement usually made everyone in the vicinity snigger and Hermione Granger to become very angry and sweep into a longwinded harangue about fiction versus reality. This was a controversial subject which annoyed Luna as well as Hermione, until Hermione was shooting daggers with her normally pleasant cinnamon eyes, and Luna reading the Quibbler with an icy indifference. "What nonsense" they would both mutter and ignore each other until it was forgotten.

"What strange friends I have." The red head pondered. Pansy Parkinson seemed to be letting her cacophonous vocals rest because Ginny had not heard them for a while. Theodore Nott was now speaking in periodic grunts, if Ginny was correct. Sometimes Ginny found it disturbing that she could differentiate their voices. As Slytherins, it seemed fitting that they should all have the same dark, monotonous, indifferent sound.

Affluent, Sneering, Humorless, Witty, and Collected. It was like an impossible standard each Slytherin was required to meet, with proper respect according to their year. The Slytherin House was indeed fascinating to a Gryffindor like Ginny Weasley; she reveled in the chance to psychoanalyze the interior motives of such a polar society. The Daily Prophet was merely a prop to hide behind her curiosity.

During the course of several years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardly, Ginny Weasley had become accustomed to the politics and minutiae quirks of each house. The Sorting Hat was truly a fantastic work of magic; how could an object decide the very essence of an individual's personality, aspirations, and future motives at the verdant age of 11?

Hermione once said in the Muggle world there was such a study as anthropology, which was similar to her observances. With this bit of encouragement, Ginny felt inspired to appeal to her curiosity and unlock the secrets of the Houses.

In Ginny's opinion, breakfast was the ideal time to begin observation:

Most Gryffindors, according to their nature, slept until noon on the weekends, except Hermione of course.

Most Ravenclaws woke at the crack of dawn, quickly snatched some breakfast, and by 7:00 had already begun their daily routines.

The Hufflepuff House was particularly unique: It was tradition for upperclassmen to bond with lowerclassmen in order to develop a positive learning environment and promote House unity. Therefore, every member of Hufflepuff rose and entered the Great Hall simultaneously, bursting with conversation and booming with laughter.

Alternatively, the Slytherin House was a mixed group of early risers, later risers, and people who did not fit into either category. The House table was rarely occupied and students tended to sit on the edges of each bench, rather than the middle. Ginny thought this behavior reflected their nature perfectly.

"Hallo Ginny" a misty voice whispered to her far right. If Ginny wasn't so conscious of tone, she would have jumped at the sound of Luna Lovegood's unnerving presence. Ginny swiveled about in her seat and smiled at the dirty blonde sporting large red buttons as earrings; Luna Lovegood truly had an unprecedented style complemented by her hopelessly bizarre personality.

"Anything new Luna?" Ginny asked conversationally. "No" Luna vaguely replied. She blinked her enormous blue eyes, "Anything new with you, Ginny?" "Not really" answered Ginny adjusting her thin red robes and fumbling with her fingers. They sat at the Gryffindor table in suffocating silence. Ginny was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable; she wondered what she could say which would instigate Luna's vocal cords. Luna, on the other hand seemed perfectly at ease with silence and hazily observed a set of utensils dance across the table.

Ginny wondered if Luna shared her interest in the Hogwarts Houses. She ruminated about the things she knew to be true about the Houses and the Founders themselves. It was a common fact Slytherin and Gryffindor were once close friends, though she could not see how. Gryffindor and Slytherin were separate social spheres with their own aims. She was so immersed in this progressively complex subject Ginny failed to notice a collection of figures looming closer to her and the misty Luna Lovegood.


	2. II

Chapter 2

Unfortunately for Ginny, this unpleasant crowd consisted of Draco Malfoy and his posse of future terrorists. However, Ginny and Luna were so integrated in their own thoughts; each failed to notice this disagreeable development.

Draco Malfoy waltzed with an egotistical confidence to the Gryffindor House table, strands of platinum blond hair falling helplessly into his eerie gray eyes and thin lips forming into an obnoxious sneer. He was mere inches away from their table before Ginny Weasley snapped out of her trance and almost screamed in surprise.

Malfoy leaned his palms against the edge of the table and smirked maliciously at the two girls. "So it's true then" he began viciously… Ginny's nose twitched and she had a nagging desire to snatch her wand a hex the demon while his back was unwisely turned from her. The Bat-Bogey hex _was_ her specialty _and_ there were no teachers about. Ginny's hands tightly clutched the springy hickory wand in her pocket when her nose twitched again, a sure sign of rashness. Ginny relaxed slightly and considered the cowardly nature of her potential intentions; as an honorable Gryffindor she would never harm an unarmed enemy.

She cast a detestable look in Malfoy's direction and rearranged the position of her freckled fingers around the wand. _If he says anything out of turn; he gets the Bat Bogey and Parkinson and her squealing voice can get the unpleasant end of jelly legs. _She rather liked this plan.

Draco Malfoy continued to speak, "The air is thicker on this side of the Hall. It would make sense accounting the loony and weaselette's expressions." The blur of Slytherins behind him sniggered with loathsome humor. Malfoy twisted his palms to leer at Ginny and Luna, who had finally awoken from her lackadaisical stupor.

_I won't be intimidated that easily. _Ginny masked her features with a tough exterior expression and snarled, "If you have nothing better to do than shoot your pathetic petty insults at us, you can leave because no one wants _your _filthy ferret ambiance." Draco Malfoy grinned; he looked rather amused, even delighted with this response, which was even more unnerving. One didn't expect a grin in return for an insult.

In contrast, Pansy Parkinson looked outraged by the Gryffindors rejoinder and spread her detestable mouth to reply when Draco Malfoy, without turning in her direction, held a resolute hand for silence. "If you haven't noticed Red, there _is_ no one else here." Ginny glanced around out of the corners of her eyes, he was right, there was no one else, all the other houses had finished breakfast and the Gryffindors were still lazing about in the Gryffindor tower. That was unlucky. That was _very_ unlucky.

Ginny's nose twitched again and her palms became moist in perspiration. Luna, on the other hand, seemed completely ignorant to the current situation, in fact she began to hum Hoggy Hogwarts loudly and watched the set of dancing utensils in ennui fashion.

Luna glanced at the scene before her, completely unperturbed that she had become the compromised icon of attention. The dirty blond stared unblinkingly at Draco Malfoy and said very clearly, "Your voice is very brassy, maybe you should have Madam Pomfrey check to see if you've been cursed by higglets." Almost instantly, she resumed her observation of the dancing utensils.

Flabbergasted, everyone stared at her again, words lost with shock. No one dared asked what higglets were. After all how was anyone supposed to respond to that extraordinary comment anyway? Ginny grinned, _thank goodness for Luna; score one for us! _Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a small crowd of Gryffindors shuffling their way across the hall. Ginny quickly glanced at the watch clinging to her left wrist, grinning to herself.

Ginny gently rose from her seat and stretched in a classically lazy Gryffindor fashion. She ignored the protesting Slytherins in green and spoke nonchalantly, "Well, we best be going; lots of homework to do." The red head grinned again as she saw the Great Hall doors open again from the corner of her sparkling blue eyes.Draco Malfoy crossed his arms and the other Slytherins followed his lead, "And where pray tell do you think you're going?" Ginny Weasley smirked, "To the library of course, isn't that right Luna?" Luna Lovegood blinked, "I don't have any homework." She said in a very matter of fact tone; a few Slytherins sniggered again. "Oh well, I guess I'll just have to go myself." She sighed in mock drama and jerked her head to the entrance of the Great Hall, watching a series of delighted expressions instantly fall.

Gryffindors were pouring into the Great Hall in multitudes to eat a very late breakfast, or perhaps it was an early lunch.

Whichever the conclusion, this event was indeed the highlight of a certain red head's Saturday.

What the bright Gryffindor _didn't_ know was it was also the highlight of another student's day.


	3. III

Chapter 3

He watched. He was an observer, a reader, not a character.

He was present to watch, listen, and learn.

Today there was much to observe. He witnessed the exchange between his fellow Slytherins and the red headed Gryffindor, along with her unusual friend from Ravenclaw. It amused him to watch Draco practice his pretentious and juvenile insults on hapless victims; it was an irony he and Draco bitterly disagreed upon. He believed the true attributes of a Slytherin were resourcefulness, cunning, foresight, and analysis, all of which Draco lacked and he had in abundance.

No one noticed his presence a floor above this interesting scene; he was hidden by the shadows of a thick velvet tapestry hanging from the ceiling. From his scrutiny he was able to observe the fallacies in the current progression of the scene. Draco was, as usual, too confident and too careless. What a fool to turn his back on the red head! He leered over the balcony to see the girl discreetly place a hand inside her robes, most definitely clutching her wand. He supposed Draco must have placed his trust in the strength of Gryffindor honor, which would prohibit her from making such a crafty move. However, it was against his judgment to put faith in anyone who was highly talented in casting hexes.

His lips spread into a rare smile at the sight of the Ravenclaw, such a funny girl she was. Her comment seemed to unhinge Draco along with the rest of the Slytherins, how amusing!

He noticed the red head glance for a fraction of a second at her watch. _What a clever girl _he thought.

A mass of Gryffindors flooded the Great Hall, polluting the air with their yawns. Clearly they did not know the phrase, "Early to sleep, early to rise, makes a wizard, healthy, wealthy and wise."

Busily watching the exchange between Gryffindor and Slytherin, he suddenly realized the funny Ravenclaw was looking straight at the balcony where he was lurking.

He wondered if it was a coincidence, surely no one could see him from this high up? She stared for a few moments, cocking her head. Then blinking almost colorless blue eyes, she stalked off in the opposite direction.

One could certainly say Blaise Zambini was a true Slytherin.

_Journal,_

_Today was an unusual day. It started out boring then became interesting and then annoying and then back to boring for a long time and then back to interesting again._

_The morning was mostly boring, today is Saturday, (yawn) I am the same person I was Friday and Thursday and so one. Pansy is still irritating, Theodore is still nosy, and Blaise is still treating me like a child. Although, I do have reason to believe that Crabbe is stupider than he was yesterday. Is that a word? Stupider? _

_Does anyone in Slytherin have anything better to do than follow me around like a blooming posse? Usually I enjoy being surrounded by a crowd of people, but occasionally I want to walk through a corridor without hearing someone's footsteps a meter behind me. _

_Honestly, I don't blame them for following me like a fan club of course. If I wasn't __**me**__ I would follow __**me**__ around, after all people who stand next to good-looking individuals look better themselves._

_Now that I think about today, I did have a little run in with the Weaselette and Loony this morning. Blaise told me it wasn't a run in because I chose to insult them first but I prefer to ignore his annoying cynical comments. _

_Weaselette is the same, easily annoyed, honorable Gryffindor she has always been. I am not sorry to say I cannot say as much for her idiot brother. _

_Such a pathetic boy, you should have seen the putrid concoction he created in Potions, absolutely disgusting. I told Professor Snape the fumes from his cauldron were making me faint. Oh the look I received for that comment! If looks could kill I would have fallen over soaked in blood right there in Potions class._

_The Loon was extra loopy today. When I was in the grand middle of my 'run in' she interrupted and said the strangest thing in that chilling voice of hers, I shiver every time she speaks because it reminds me of Professor Trelawney. _

_She said, "Your voice is brassy maybe you should have Pomfrey check to see if you've been cursed by hibles, or was it higgums or, oh I can't remember. Some weird creature that no one's ever heard of and probably doesn't exist. _

_I have no idea why she is Ravenclaw; she should be in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff with the Weasels and St. Potter and Mudblood. Then the mangy Gryffindors came barging into the Great Hall to eat like pigs. Lazy idiots. _

_The rest of the day was very, very boring. Watching Blaise read, The Spectacular Life of Flubberworms and listen to Pansy talk about her nails is enough for anyone to jump off the astronomy tower. _

_So I daringly and wittily sneaked out of the Slytherin common room without anyone following me. Well I suppose it wasn't that daring or witty. I bumped into Goyle and told him I wasn't really here; I was a ghost. Goyle blinked and said, "Okay, I'm going to go eat. Bye ghost of Draco." Sometimes I want to strangle him, sometimes. _

_I didn't feel like bumping into anyone so I went outside to the Quittage field for some Draco time when I noticed there was someone else there. You wouldn't guess who it was: the Weaselette. _

_Her broom was lying on the ground and she was throwing quaffles like a mad witch. She's not bad to be honest. The red head wouldn't make a bad chaser. Blaise always says you should admit people's abilities to yourself; it's easier to overcome the known versus the unknown. _

_No gives me advice of course! But everything Blaise says sticks, whether I want it to or not. Can't say the same for Crabbe, so I think they even out well. _

_I wonder if the Weaselette does this all the time? I'd rather watch her practice than be stuck in the Slytherin common room with people crowding my sanctuary space; especially the midgets._

_I'm going to sleep, my hand hurts and this quill is splitting._

_Note to self: Never 'borrow' anyone else's quill. Honestly who uses pigeon feathers for quills? _

_Draco Malfoy_


	4. IV

Chapter 4

_Dear Diary,_

_The weather was very nice today. There were pretty, white, puffy clouds in the sky. One was shaped just like a zumblume. It might have been a rabbit. Another was shaped like a higglet. I think Draco Malfoy has been cursed by higglets. He has a brassy voice. It's one of the first signs you've been cursed. He wasn't very nice to Ginny. He called me loony. I don't care for him much. His friends aren't very nice either. I can't think why Ginny would say we have homework. We don't have any. I think she may have forgotten we did it all yesterday. Oh! I hope she hasn't stepped on any purple dandelions. Their fumes release when they're stepped on. They cause memory loss. Blaise Zambini is funny. I wonder why he was hiding on the second floor and watching us. I wonder if he knows it's rude to stare at people. The rest of the day was fun. I visited Hagrid. I found a firecrab dropping. That just reminds me. Daddy says their dropping mixed with mint leaves is the remedy for a higglet curse. Maybe if I give it to Draco Malfoy he'll be nicer to Ginny and me. I fed the giant squid. I visited the House Elves. I found my blue tennis shoes. The ones that went missing last year. They were in a broom closet. I talked to the Fat Lady. Her real name is Victoria Belington the third. She doesn't like people calling her the Fat Lady. I helped Colin and Dennis put together their new photo album. I talked to Nick. I ate my favorite meal for dinner. It was cabbage stew. No one else seemed to like it very much. They all ate the chicken instead. I don't care for meat much. I'm very tired now. I think I'll go to sleep._

_Goodnight,_

_Luna_

_I hate Malfoy and his stupid, pretentious Slytherin posse that follows him EVERYWHERE. _The red head swung her hand at her freckled face violently. _They are mindless fools__ to a narcissus blonde boy that acts his shoe size instead of his age. I hate everything about him: his 'brassy' voice, his sneering face, his disparaging insults. Everything! This horrendous list would be ten feet long and use every cranny of space. _

_He thinks he's so great, so smart, so handsome. Ha! _

_He could never be as great as Harry, _

_He could never be as smart as Hermione, _

_and he could never be as handsome as Blaise Zambini._

As Ginny Weasely continued to rant senselessly about her passionate hatred for the infuriating Draco Malfoy, she had failed to notice she had openly admitted Blaise Zambini was extraordinarily handsome without even realizing it.

Harry Potter stretched and yawned, lazily rubbing his eyes and smiling with wonder at the enchanted ceiling. _Saturday really is the best day of the week_. His partner in crime, Ronald Weasely, had an identical lazy grin on his face showing he was thinking the same thought. Late lie-ins followed by portions of breakfast large enough to feed an army, oh the joys of Hogwarts weekends! The two boys slid onto the Gryffindor house benches and seized heafty portions and wolfed them down like starved dragons. Bacon bits flying, the table cloth smeared in grease, sausages mysteriously appearing at other House tables; it was indeed quite a scene to behold.

Ginny Weasely happened to be the unfortunate girl to witness this grotesque sight. She watched as food went flying as naturally as rain from the sky. Approaching the table which other Gryffindors had completely bypassed, in fear of being hit with half chewed food, she cleared he voice loudly.

Neither Harry Potter nor Ronald Weasely showed any sign of hearing the small red head loudly and unnaturally clear her throat. "Harry, Ron!" People from across the hall heard her and yet Harry Potter and Ronald Weasely seemed to have built a sound proof force field around the Gryffindor House table. _Time for drastic measures._ She smiled to herself and shouted in a surprisingly stentorian voice for such a small girl, "SPIDERS!"

A very high shriek echoed through the Great Hall making every Gryffindor stopped eating and stare at their house table. Ronald Weasely jumped out of the bench he had previously occupied and started frantically shaking and performing escape maneuvers. "Spiders, spiders, where, where." It was a rather pitiful sight; a very tall, red head, seventeen year old boy jumping about like a toddler and stuttering and shrieking over a small eight legged creature.

There was silence for a moment and then an eruption of roaring laughing, pointing and sharp flashes of Colin Creevy's camera erupted through the Great Hall.

Harry Potter fell off the dining bench laughing with tears flowing down his face. Ron marched up to Ginny Weasely with blushing ears and an embarrassed stance. "What the bloody hell Gin?" His sister had an amused expression etched into her face and said shrugged, "You weren't listening to me." That was enough to make Harry Potter wildly laugh once more. Ronald Weasely glared over his broad shoulder at the ebony haired boy, "Shut up Harry" he growled menacingly.

"You stop smiling and you stop laughing. Oi Creevy if you don't stop snapping that muggle contraption, I'll snap that cemira in two." A jingle of laughter rang through the Great Hall; Ronald Weasely looked like he was going to explode in rage "Ron," Harry Potter said between choking laughs and slapping his fist on the table, "it's camera, it's camera." He wheezed, red faced. "It doesn't make a bloody difference!" Ronald Weasely roared. He then shouted at his grinning sister, "What? What do you want?" Ginny Weasely smiled fiercely and proposed her idea.


	5. V

Chapter 5

Blaise Zambini strolled down a curious aisle of the Hogwarts Library, ruminating on his priorities and thoughts while inhaling the aroma of musty volumes. Haunting whispers from the tomes stacked on either side of his walking figure moaned as his airy footsteps made contact with the cold, immobile stone. Blaise ignored the disturbing phrases and violent rattling from the books and instead drifted into the profound conscience of his calculated mind. It seemed only yesterday that he been a curious young wizard listening to the piercing roar of the Hogwarts Express and witnessing the majestic beauty of Hogwarts, his palace of knowledge, this world of wonder which he had resided in for six years. Six years! Could it really be true? Perhaps Muggles had justification in their nonsensical phrases, time flies.

Suddenly Blaise was inundated with a sense of vile urgency, an impetuous to accomplish something exceptionally fantastic. How could he remedy this distressing new thought? Something _had_ to be done.

"You what!" Cried Ronald Weasely with a flabbergasted expression distorting his face. "I-want-to-tryout-for-chaser" Ginny repeated in a ludicrously slow voice. "Someone has to replace Emma Grow". "Yeah, someone _will_ replace her, but it _won't _be you" Ron snapped with a degree finality. Ginny felt her face wrinkle into a distasteful frown and her lips pursed into two fine lines, with an uncannily similarity to Professor McGonagoll.

Though she had a probable suspicion of her brother's refusal, Ginny nevertheless demanded to know why. Ron threw his gangly, freckled arms in the air looking exasperated, "A million reasons!" Ginny snorted, "Name one _good_ one".

Ron's expression became more acute as he scratched his head and pointed an accusing finger at the red headed girl. "Look Ginny, it's not happening and that's final!" As Ginny's mouth fell open in shock and anger, Ron's tone mollified and said, "You're my little sister and I don't want you to get hurt." Unbeknownst to the poor Weasley boy, this comment incited even more anger from Ginny than his prior antagonism. She was appalled her brother's overprotective ways. At once her nose began twitching again.

"Look here Ronald," she stabbed her brother aggressively with the tip of her pointer finger, "I am tired of you acting like a controlling muggle caveman; I am NOT a china doll and you are NOT my protector. I can do what I want to and YOU can't stop me!"

Ginny and Ron jumped in surprise as a small cheer was heard from several yards away. They had forgotten the public setting which their spat had occurred, and blushed furiously when several hundred eyes gawked at the dissenting siblings.

_Dear Journal,_

_I am so angry; I can't imagine what possessed that wizened Muggle loving fool to require pureblood students to take Muggle Studies with that batty mudblood hag. My Father will hear of this nonsense, the abomination, the embarrassment. _

_I cannot bear to be seen in such a setting, how would it affect my status? It is the ultimate form of demeaning punishment for superior breeding. The horror, the horror!_

_Other than that bit of dreadful news, I am the same clever devil as I was on Saturday and Friday and so on. _

_I am seriously considering casting a spell to paralysis Pansy's vocal chords, she NEVER shuts her mouth and it's seriously beginning to deteriorate the inner peace embalming my psyche._

_Blaise was even more monotonous and boring today than he was yesterday, I swear I think he is going mute. Why can't I have normal friends that talk ONLY when I WANT them to, and actually respond to my comments? _

_Though Blaise always has possessed a sense of mystery shrouding his every move, I think he's up to something; I have genuine proof. _

_This afternoon I was extremely bored since there was no one residing in my dorm, so I obviously had to entertain myself with something. I was just minding my own business when I saw an old book lying on his desk. Naturally I seized it and glanced at the cover. What I discovered was quite shocking; in comparison to the useless knowledge Blaise normally acquires from the library, this one was neither labeled, "The Evolution of Gaelic Ancient Ruins" nor "The History of Swiss Pewter Cauldrons". Although I detest "pleasure reading" this book had an alluring quality which tempted me to rip open the cover and browse through its dusty, dog-eared pages. _

_Though the bold title was peeling from centuries of abuse, I was cleverly able to decipher the Latin words into English. _

"_5,000 Illicit Potions & Drugs for Advanced Wizardry and Potionmaking" Series 2: M. Hook and V. Savloski, Volume 1: 300 B.C. – 1200 A.D."_

_Unfortunately, Blaise arrived from Ancient Ruins earlier than I had expected, so I was unable to further inspect it. Bah!_

_What could he be up to?_


	6. VI

Chapter 6

_I'll kill Ron_, Ginny declared, furiously pacing the diminutive space between her four-poster and the loo. _Sometimes I wish I was a wizard, instead of a witch; my life would be so much easier. _She sighed in frustration and kicked her brass trunk, imagining it was her brother's face._ What I wouldn't give to have a bit of peace from my protective, overbearing family. _

"Hey now, the floor doesn't deserve all that abuse". Ginny spun around to glimpse the smiling face of Dean Thomas. The red head frowned, "How did you climb the stairs?" she wondered, recalling the last time a boy attempted to enter the girls' dormitories. Dean's grin became even wider, displaying his pearly white teeth. "I have my ways," he answered mysteriously.

Ginny felt her frown and anger from the morning ebb and her mouth curve into a small smile. Dean rested his body casually against the wall and spoke in a consoling way, "I heard what happened at brunch" "I think everyone did" Ginny answered with evident rancor in her voice. "Well I just thought I would say, Ithinkyou'dmakeagreatchaser" he blurted.

Before Ginny could even react, Dean had slid down the banister and was out of sight. The Gryffindor shook her head with confusion, feeling slightly dizzy. What stroke of madness had caused all this chaos?

Ginny jumped on her four poster and sat cross-legged on her red cotton sheets. This was a very interesting new development she had not foreseen. As Ginny thought of Dean's attractive face, she briefly wondered how Harry would react if she responded to Dean's obvious proclivity towards her.

She gasped and slapped herself on the cheek, _No more Harry Potter nonsense!_ Ginny sighed again and stared at the ceiling, wondering how this bizarre day would end.

Blaise Zambini was in a reclusive mood this afternoon; he considered the Slytherin common room, animated by the wild behavior of the underclassmen as a distracting violation of his intellectual privacy. He found haven in the depths of the Hogwarts library, dangerously close to the entrance of the restricted section.

For Blaise, his Slytherin cunning served as an advantageous tool for requesting _extracurricular_ materials, including requests for _interesting_ books. Though she never said a word, he tersely wondered what Madam Pince thought of his numerous adventures to the restricted section.

He shot the disgruntled witch a charming smile, which she returned with a look of suspicion. Blaise merely chuckled to himself and contemplated his current scheme. After considerate thought, he did not believe he could endeavor to complete his goal without the help of another student.

This was beginning to become quite a dilemma for the young Slytherin, who could he trust with his plan, and who was clever enough to be useful? It seemed unlikely that he could trust any Gryffindor or Hufflepuff; however, there was simply no one with sufficient intelligence in Slytherin. A terrible scenario involving the brainless Pansy Parkinson and a lethal jar of dragon blood made him shiver.

_Dear Journal,_

_I have come to the conclusion that Blaise Zambini is completely mad. Years of social isolation have finally taken its toll on his twisted mental state._

_Fortunately for me, I was able to continue my investigation of the mysterious book after Blaise left the common room this evening. _

_After examining the tome I have come to the conclusion that this is one of the most disturbing books I have ever encountered! It is filled with grotesque concoctions made with putrid ingredients. I found myself frantically flipping each yellowed page searching for something less horrible than the previous recipe. _

_At last I found a dog eared page with a reference note written at the top; I recognized the scrawl as Blaise's hand, not as elegant as mine, of course. Instantly I examined the contents of the page. Chapter 14: _

_Dear Diary,_

_I found my pumpkin earrings today. They were planted in a pot of mandrake saplings. In the greenhouses. Poor Neville stepped on the trick stair again. I saved him before he fell. It would have been dreadful if I wasn't there. I attended the Bloody Barrons' birthday party. I was the only human there. I didn't mind. Lady Rosella de Barcelona told me about how she died. It was very interesting. She fell ill during the plague of the Black death. Isn't that sad? Poor Sir Headless Nick was denied from the headless hunt again. I think he was terribly upset. I made a daisy chain necklace for Dobby. And one for Winky. But that made her cry. I hope she is feeling better now. I think she drinks too much. I received the strangest note today. It happened during breakfast. The poor owl who delivered it fell in my oatmeal. It said, _

Dear Miss Lovegood,

I wish to express an apology on behalf of my fellow Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy for his disgraceful behavior this afternoon; I do not share his thoughts in regards to you and your friend, Miss Weasley. On the contrary, I hoped to benefit from your help in an endeavor I have recently undertaken. Unfortunately, I am unable to complete the task myself; therefore I require an additional intelligent mind for a portion of the project.

Please consider my proposal; I will be reading in the east alcove of the library at 7:00 this evening.

_There was no signature. I wonder who it could be. _

Ginny Weasley was on an extremist mission to prove her worthiness. She stalked up the west wing staircase with evident purpose and determination, reflecting her passionate mental state.

She felt malcontent with her slow progress and livid at this looming impasse in her athletic abilities. She needed to be more dexterous with the quaffle, more furious with her throws, and more aggressive with her game.

She couldn't let Ron win, failure was no longer an option. She needed to prove her inner strength to her brothers, her fellow Gryffindors, and to Harry. _NO! Not to Harry, most definitely not to Harry! _This was more than quittage, this was about establishing her status as an individual, not the youngest daughter of the Weasley family.

However, with this new endeavor came obstacles which Ginny had difficulty contending with. Without a coach, it was almost impossible to assess her abilities accurately and improve her faults.

Ginny sighed, and found herself shuffling across the potions corridor, feeling rancorous and antagonistic.

Suddenly the clang of a silver cauldron crashing to the stone floor startled Ginny, and invoked her innate curiosity. Peering into an empty classroom on her left where she heard the clang originate from, she witnessed something most unexpected.


	7. VII

Chapter 7

Blaise Zambini could not conceive of a more productive way of spending a Saturday afternoon than taking a stroll on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Not only did he enjoy the sense of burgeoning transcendentalism, but also the silence accompanied with his chosen location.

Prior to breakfast, he had enlisted the help of the one and only Luna Lovegood, and today he would acquire his other assistant. As of this moment, everything was progressing as planned.

After several hours of vacillating on the line between Hogwarts grounds and the Forbidden Forest, Blaise allowed his thoughts to trail eastward to a quadrant of herbology greenhouses. There were a series of ingredients he needed to obtain in order to complete the potion making segment of his project; however, he doubted that Madam Sprout housed a collection of lethal dragon ivy or poisonous yurik buds, which were surely safety hazards in a school of verdant witches and wizards.

This presented somewhat of a dilemma for the calculating young Slytherin; he would have to _borrow_ materials from Professor Snape's private cupboard. Usually unfazed by such a contention, Blaise knew the greasy haired Severus Snape was not a teacher he could charm with academic prowess and innocent curiosity.

As Blaise ruminated over the growing possibility of engaging the services of Maffetta the Thief, he encountered a more viable answer in the shape of Draco Malfoy.

The pompous blonde haired Slytherin tip toed with evident caution behind his fellow house member, unwilling to compromise the nature of his purpose. Feeling devious and quite clever, Draco sprung at the sound of Blaise's voice, "You should have silenced your shoes, those ridiculous silver soles make a distinct clanging sound when you shuffle your feet in that manner." He raised his head and glanced at Draco, who was experiencing an exponential increase in impatience, curiosity, and pure annoyance. "What are you up to?" He demanded.

Blaise's lips curled into a smirk, "How disappointing, I was hoping for something less blatant from the clever Draco Malfoy."

"Don't play games with me Blaise, you're up to something, and I know it."

"A detective as well as a scholar" replied Blaise.

"I found that book you checked out from the restricted section."

"I check out many books from the restricted section, it's my preferred reading genre."

"Don't be evasive"

"Don't be nosy"

"Why are you such an annoying git?"

"Why do you insist on prying into other people's business?"

Draco groaned and threw a watering can across the greenhouse floor, where it tumbled with a dull thud.

"I need you to perform a task for me." Blaise prompted in a serious voice which contained an intimation of mystery.

Draco narrowed his eyes, "what sort of task?"

"I want you to break into Snape's private potion's cupboard and borrow a few ingredients for me."

The suspicious blonde unfolded his arms and gasped, "No way, why would I ever do that for you?"

Blaise smiled in a malicious fashion and offered an exchange, "I'll teach you how to brew Garish Apentius without flaying your hand off."

Draco crossed his arms again with regained confidence, "What if I'm not interested."

The plotting Slytherin removed all traces of facial emotion with incredible speed. "My prior offer was simply a kind gesture Draco, the rest is nonnegotiable."

Instantaneously, Blaise snaked a strong arms around Draco's shoulders; his voice adopted a honeyed texture and his fathomless black eyes stared impassively at azure grey ones, "You'll do it because I told you to." With an air of finality, Blaise severed the tension arising from his brief conversation with Draco Malfoy and walked away, leaving behind a speechless and victimized blonde wizard.

_Dear Journal,_

_I hate Blaise, I hope he rots in hell for all eternity. The damn git initially refused to answer my questions, then offers an exchange, then compels me to help him in a way that will land me detentions for the rest of my life, in order to further a project that I don't know anything about! What the bloody fuck?_

_I don't want to help, but I feel plagued by this nagging sensation in the pit of my stomach that won't go away. How does he do it? Does he do this to adults too? Professors? His parents? Mmmmm, that actually isn't a bad idea…_

_I want to know what he's up to, and I want to know NOW!_

_Dear Diary,_

_I had a super funny day today. After I received my letter. You know the one without a signature. I wrote an essay for Professor Sprout about the seven uses of gnome spit in agriculture. I think she liked it. I had tea with Professor Trawlaney. Mandrake leaves are my favorite. She read my palm. And said I have a dark future full of death. I hope it's not true. She seemed a little tipsy. I think she drinks too much sherry. Maybe I should start a club. Maybe Winky should join too. I was really curious about the letter so I went to the library. You'll never guess who was there. Blaise Zambini. _


	8. VIII

Chapter 8

Ginny Weasley trailed behind a glut of loquacious third years who were impassioned by the upcoming visit to Hogsmead. The red-headed Gryffindor paused for a moment, considering the possibilities involving this forgotten opportunity; perhaps she could use this to her advantage.

She briefly wondered what the Golden Trio would be planning. Perhaps at that very instant Harry and Ron were stealthily cajoling Hermione into joining them at the three Broomsticks for butterbeer and a quick visit to Zonko's joke shop, while she pleaded to go to the Great Parchment Emporium.

It was a great mystery to the financial stability of the emporium, considering the only people who would be fascinated by vintage parchment imported from Brazil was Hermione and Professor Binns, the monotonous ghost who taught History of Magic.

Harry would probably be bundled in his black woolen jacket and smothered in a bright red and gold Gryffindor scarf. The delicate frost settling upon his head would offer a striking contrast against his ebony hair and the breeze would chill his snowy cheeks until they glowed cherry.

Ginny gasped aloud and slapped her cheeks furiously.

In a moment she was engulfed by the third years behind her who exchanged quizzical looks at her unexpected halt in the middle of the corridor. This raised eyebrows and whispers did not annoy Ginny; she was more concerned with undergoing further anti-Harry Potter therapy. After all, he was interested in the 6th year Ravenclaw girl, Cho Chang. Wasn't he? Of course he was, why wouldn't he be? She was intelligent, beautiful, and held a superior aura of elegance in her height and flowing black curls, which served as an enticing magnet towards people, especially _male_ people.

Ginny signed and wondered how her life would be if she wasn't debilitated by the permanent connotation surrounding the Weasley clan. She was the seventh, the seventh child of Molly and Arthur Weasley, the only daughter no less.

The fourth year Gryffindor felt her freckled nose twitch and decided to end the debilitating mental rant she had begun. "Nonsense, nonsense, enough…"

It was a rare occasion when Blaise Zambini read in his dormitory; in fact, it was a rarity for Blaise to even be seen in his dormitory. The handsome dark complected Slytherin preferred to sleep in a deserted bedchamber hidden behind the portrait of an aging warlock chasing a beautiful nymph through the marshes of Whales on the sixth floor.

However, with the excitement associated with a trip to the village, his obnoxious and inconveniently nosy roommates had dispersed. Blaise had purposely planned to skip his visit to the village in order to further analyze the progression of his project.

Besides, he could visit Hogsmead whenever he wished; the secret passage was through the Shrieking Shack was not a secret solely known to the Golden Trio.

Blaise scanned the dusty volume he was holding with delicacy, and re-read the extensive instructions included on page 756.

34. Finely chop dragon tongues with an iron blade and add to pot at a quarter to 3:00 PM on the third Friday of the month.

35. Stir tongues five times clockwise and twelve times counterclockwise for twenty minutes, or until the liquid adopts and greenish tinge with characteristic crystalline bubbles floating on the rim of the cauldron.

He had repeatedly read the instructions so he would not be surprised by any bizarre step.

A moment later there was a clatter downstairs. Blaise bolted into a sitting position and froze intent upon listening for a possible intruder of his privacy. Who could it be? He was sure all the idiots from his dorm had signed up for the trip, could they be back so soon? Or could _he _be back so soon?

Blaise gracefully snapped his book and jumped off his four poster in one fluid motion. He stealthily hid the book under his sheets and whispered several incantations to insure its security and covert nature.

The culprit had not appeared; therefore, Blaise decided to investigate. Unbeknownst to him, he shared Ginny Weasley's thirst to quench curiosity.

Whispering a second spell to silence his cautious footsteps, the Slytherin slithered downstairs with his wand held before him, prepared to cast an injurious curse if necessary.

"What are you gonna do, curse me Blaise?" slurred Draco Malfoy.

Blaise relaxed his tensed shoulders and spun around to face a disheveled Malfoy with flushed cheeks, undeniably pink lips, and his tie slung haphazardly over his shoulder.

"Sometimes I wonder whether Pansy is actually a girl."

Draco sniggered, "As opposed to what?"

"I don't know, but every time you have a little private time, you return to the common room looking as though something mauled you."

The humored boy laughed and removed several strands of tousled hair from his face.

"Ha, maybe if you had some private time, maybe you'd be more agreeable in that department" Draco waggled his eyebrows suggestively as Blaise's expression turned from sour to lemon in a matter of seconds.

"I prefer to associate myself with women who know that a social pariah isn't a carnivorous fish."

"Ouch, that hurt Blaise. I totally get that you don't like my taste, but you know," Draco swung an arm over Blaise's rigid shoulders, "that'll never happen because there's no one as intelligent as you" the blonde slurred, curling his lips into a grin, which was abruptly interrupted with a loud hiccup.

"Dammit"

"You're drunk" accused Blaise, trying to shake the blonde's arm from his shoulders.

"Happily guilty" hiccupped Draco again, suddenly effusing nonsensical laughter.

Blaise shook his head in disgust and turned away from the inebriated Slytherin who had begun to sing the chorus of Hoggy Hogwarts and integrate his own language.

"Wait! Wait Blaise!" He shouted lunging of the common room table, which he had been using as a platform. He ran in front of Blaise, blocking the staircase, "I know about the…"


	9. Author's Note

Hi!

I hope everyone is enjoying my story, _Anthropology_. I would really appreciate if you have a moment to send me reviews. I need some motivation for further inspiration.

Thank you


	10. IX

Author's Note to VioletCrystal77:

Awww thank you so much! I am super flattered that you think I portray the characters well

Chapter 9

_Dear Diary,_

_I wonder how Blaise will find all his ingredients. Malfoy seemed upset today. Maybe he's worried about his brassy voice. I probably wouldn't. It was rainy today. Everyone said the weather was bad for quittage. I don't agree. I like the rain. I think Harry and Ron need to find more hobbies. Seamus was confusing today. I asked him if he minded passing the toadstools. And he said yes and passed them anyway. When people say "do you mind" why does everyone say "yes" if they mean no? Ginny looked upset today too. I think she hates having so many brothers. I wouldn't know. I don't have any siblings. It's quiet. But nice. Why does everyone love visiting Hogsmead? It doesn't change from year to year. I think I'm becoming addicted to butterbeer. It makes you feel warm and snuggly when it's cold. It's a good thing I'm not a house elf. Then I would be tipsy like Winky._

_Dear Journal,_

_I feel like bloody fucking hell today; my head is pounding like a monstrous time bomb. I ordered Crabbe and Goyle to leave and take the midgets with them so I could rest in peace and gather some sanity before Snape eradicates me from the planet. I have developed an extremely clever plan to acquire the ingredients for this...project. Hopefully my two oaf minions won't screw it up with their clumsiness. I can't possible risk detention, or worse, torture. I have quittage matches to play, underclassmen to terrorize, and Mudbloods to disparage; I don't have time to spend my Saturdays scrubbing the floors like a damn house elf. Oh the humiliation; it would undermine my authority as a leader as well! _

Ginny Weasley wandered aimlessly down the East Wing staircase of the third floor, seemingly unaware of her destination was completely lost in a debacle between finishing her Herbology essay and devising a new strategy for the quittage tryouts in three weeks. Accustomed to grinding swing of moving staircases, Ginny soon drifted into wondering whether her essay about dragon manure would earn a greater score than Luna's obsession with gnome spit.

If the red-headed girl was less connected with her thoughts and more focused on her immediate senses, she would have noticed that the surrounding temperature had significantly dropped and the sunlight streaming through stained glass had dwindled.

Surrounded by utter silence, Ginny was shocked into reality once more by the sound of shattering glass and furious cursing. Intrigued, the Gryffindor realized she had unknowingly taken the East staircase straight to the dungeons…Slytherin territory. However, Ginny's indefatigable curiosity to investigate triumphed over her rationality to leave.

Jogging down the dimly lit corridor, Ginny recognized that she was very near Professor Snape's office; who had she heard cursing? Surely not Snape? He didn't really seem the type, but then again… 

"Damn Blaise and his bloody fucking potion!"

_Ooooh well, I don't think that's Snape,_ Ginny thought, her nose twitching in anticipation.

She peered cautiously into the barred window of Snape's private pantry and gasped at what she saw.

A livid Draco Malfoy wearing a set of shredded black robes, stained with something that looked revoltingly like blood, a cracked vial on the floor, and a very unpleasant looking black cat with lethal claws.

"Stay away, you evil thing" cried the blond wizard struggling to pull his wand from his robes as the cat glared at him with malicious yellow eyes.

The black cat hissed and trotted away from Draco Malfoy stalked towards the door, drawing attention to her hiding spot. Suddenly Ginny was staring into a pair of very angry looking grey eyes, "Weaselette!"

Ginny panicked, wondering whether she should confront Malfoy or make a run for it. Though characteristically un-Gryffindor-like, the redhead sprinted from Snape's pantry as fast as her legs could carry her.

A few moments later Ginny felt a rush of jubilance and relief as she saw the staircase she had originally taken waiting for her return. But alas, as soon as her hands clutched the railing protectively, it swung violently to the right and she toppled off the stone steps and crumpled on the floor.

Sharp footsteps echoed nearby and Ginny registered a streak of fear among the pain from her fall. Frantically searching for another way out, the Gryffindor found none; she was doomed, Draco Malfoy was going to Avada Kedavra her and she would be buried in the Forbidden Forest. How many people would come to her funeral? Who would cry if she died? Could she come back as a ghost and haunt Draco Malfoy forever? Would she have to live in a bathroom like Moaning Myrtle?

"Miss Weasley!"

Ginny jumped in surprise and ironically felt relieved to see the billowing black robes of Professor Snape, even though his expression suggested otherwise.

"What are you doing here? Go to your own dormitory!" He snapped, looking even more furious and sour than usual.

Ginny gasped as the yellow-eyed black cat appeared behind the cantankerous Potion's Master.

"That cat!" She cried pointing.

Snape's hollow black eyes narrowed suspiciously, "You've seen this cat before?"

"N-no…I mean yes…"

Ginny's original apprehension suddenly spiked into a full blown panic attack; her palms were sweating profusely and her nose twitched incessantly. Would Snape drag her off to the Headmaster? Would she be suspended by the ceiling by her thumbs, Filch style? A swarm of possibilities crowded her imagination as Snape's dreadful stare sent chills down her spine.

Amongst all this tension, Ginny seemed to forget her total innocence in the Draco Malfoy matter and prepared for the worst from the slimy potions master.

"Miss Weasley, I believe I told you to go back to your own dormitory or do you have ears of stone like your babbling buffoon brother?"

Though Ginny was indeed furious for Ron for refusing to support her tryout of the Gryffindor quittage team, she couldn't deny her Weasley patronage and proceeded to send back a nasty retort when the pug-like face of Pansy Parkinson popped out of nowhere.

"Angelica! My darling angel, why did you run away from Mommy?" Seemingly completely unaware of Snape and Ginny, Pansy Parkinson scooped up the nasty black cat and scurried off while its howls echoed down the hall.

Please review! Thank you


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